Who Said It Would Be Easy?
by pleasing-phoebe
Summary: When Alan Shore falls in love, he falls in love. So why does it always have to be with someone he shouldn't? In this case, it's Denny Crane's daughter. [NEW ONE UP as of 4th Jan 07] [CURRENTLY ON HIATUS lack of inspiration]
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1.

Night terrors. They had been the bane of Denny Crane's life ever since his friend had begun to experience them in the depths of non-REM sleep. Terrified of running off the balcony of a fourteenth floor apartment, he had begged his good friend Denny to sleep in the bed with him, so that in case he ran off the balcony somebody could save him. So it was a shame that Denny slept like a log. As a method of getting him to stay, they had tried to tie themselves together, with interesting results concerning midnight trips to the bathroom. So, as a Christmas gift, he decided to get him something he really needed – a prostitute.

"Alan, we're having a party." Denny announced, just as Alan picked up his book.

"Is that a statement?" He flicked languorously to his page, and slid a finger down to the last word he'd read. He was used to Denny's sudden impulses, and knew how to handle them.

"Yes. And it's going to be here."

"Oh really." Alan laid the book down. "And did it ever occur to you that this is my apartment, and that I might not be in a party mood on that particular night?"

"Let me rephrase. We're having a Christmas party, here, in a week. And there's someone I would like to introduce you to."

"Contrary to popular belief, I'm not that lonely. The answer's no, Denny."

"Be a sport, Alan. You might have fun, meet a nice girl…"

"This is about us sleeping together, isn't it? I have to admit, I'm affronted. I share my bed with you, and this is the thanks I get."

"I'm fed up with sleeping with you, Alan. So I've arranged for a… friend of mine to come and see you."

"Oh, God. She's a hooker, isn't she?"

"If she was, would you say no? I mean, I have a picture…" Delving into a drawer, Denny pulled out a picture of a young woman with a head of red curls and beautiful green eyes. She was wearing a slinky emerald dress, and smiling at the camera with a pleasantly wide, lipsticked smile. Alan raised an eyebrow.

"Who on God's green earth is she?"

"Let's just say… we go way back."

"I'm not meeting with anybody I know you've slept with Denny. I'm low, but not that low."

"I didn't sleep with her, Alan. I slept with her mother, but not her."

"That makes me feel so much better. Name?"

"Tania. She's really very nice you know." Alan sighed.

"Will it shut you up if I do?"

"Naturally. Just say hello, see if you could be bed buddies, and then we could settle a price."

"So then she is a hooker? The deal's off."

"Too late, you agreed."

"I did not, I –"

"Goodnight, honey." Denny stretched over Alan, and with the gentle pull of a cord plunged the room into darkness.

_A/N and Disclaimer: I don't have anything to do with Boston Legal. That's the only time I'll say that._

_First 'Boston Legal' story I've ever done. Hope you like the beginning! Please R + R._


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2.

Although it killed him to admit it, Alan was finding the party rather enjoyable. Denny had excelled himself in planning it, and already there were people coming up to him and complimenting him. He was just thankful that Denny had invited so many people that they had been forced to move the party to a large hotel, where there was a wonderful event hall complete with a dance floor. He found his toe tapping just thinking about it. Gazing around at the happy party-goers, he found himself searching for Tania, who had been told to come by Denny – not invited, but told. Typical Denny Crane. But the person who did catch his eye was most certainly not Tania.

Her head was a mass of blonde curls, swept up into a clasp at the back of her head. Many of the curls were escaping their prison, and hanging loosely from the bottom of the diamond studded piece of metal. She wore a breathtaking strappy red dress, which flowed along the contours of her tanned body and swept the floor in a manner which gave the illusion of her being several inches above the floor, and was not walking but floating. She turned around to talk to a man next to her, and Alan inhaled sharply when he saw her face. She truly was beautiful, with soft brown eyes and a rose red mouth set in a seductive pout. A small stud sat in her nose, and large chandelier earrings hung from somewhere under her loose hair. The dress was of such a style that it could afford a dazzling drop into her more than ample cleavage. A silver chain hung from her neck.. Alan cleared his throat, and made his way towards the punchbowl.

"…Yes, that sounds very interesting indeed," the blonde said as she chatted to the gentleman. "But what about the stereotype that you come under? I've always seen attorneys as money grabbing vultures, if you don't mind my saying so." The gentleman laughed as the band struck up a smooth waltz, and said something Alan couldn't hear. He figured now was his chance. He walked towards her with a smile on his face, and put his hand out to her.

"Alan Shore, of Poole, Crane and Schmidt. It's lovely to meet you, Miss ah…"

"Moran. Rosalie Moran." She smiled, and Alan was shocked at how luminous it was. Her accent was lilting towards Spanish; something he had not expected. He took her hand and kissed it gently. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"The pleasure is all mine. I understand that you were talking to this gentleman here, but I was wondering if it would be acceptable to ask you to dance."

"I should be delighted to accept your invitation, Mr Shore. Excuse me, Brad." With a slight grin on his face, Alan led Rosalie to the floor and slowly began to dance with her.

"Why on earth were you talking to Brad? He's charming and rich, yes, but incredibly vapid."

"What makes you think I care about money and looks?" Rosalie smiled and slid an arm around his neck, holding her skirt away from the floor with her other hand.

"The fact that you know Denny Crane always helps to make such judgements. And also, you didn't tell me what you do, so I assumed you merely sponge off of richer creatures than yourself. Or, you're the heiress to a multi-million dollar business."

"I know Denny Crane by design, not by accident, unfortunately. Actually, I'm neither a sponger nor an heiress. I'm an actress, actually. I work in New York generally, on Broadway."

"You're joking."

"Maybe. But as we hardly know each other, does it really matter what we say?"

"I thought honesty was the best policy?"

"Only if you want to get in a woman's underwear," Rosalie said as Alan dipped her. "Please tell me you're not going to try; you'll be the third tonight."

"Well that depends; is three a lucky number for you, Miss Moran?"

"It might be, but then again it only takes two to tango. My favourite dance as it so happens."

"That's interesting. It's mine too." Over Rosalie's shoulder, Alan saw Denny and a redhead he recognised making their way purposefully towards him. "I know this is awfully impolite, seeing as we've only just met and all, but someone I don't wish to speak to is bearing down upon us with alarming speed, and so I would like to kiss you now so that she thinks I'm taken."

"If we must," Rosalie replied, and allowed Alan to kiss her, before finding herself responding; something she had not intended to do. His grip on her waist tightened as he pulled her closer, and she wrapped her other arm around his neck, savouring every second of the impromptu kiss. Then, a man's voice said;

"Alan, so impolite to your guest of honour – kissing other women in front of her! I am sorry Tania, I mean-" As Denny pulled Alan away from Rosalie he gasped. "Rosie?!" Rosalie cringed and tried to hide her face.

"Daddy?!"

"Daddy??" Alan said, confused.

"Alan?" Tania said with a smile.

"Oh, God," muttered Alan, and signalled to the waiter for a drink. "Waiter!"


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3.

"What in God's name do you think you're doing?" Denny yelled at his young daughter, after pulling her into another room. "He's my co-worker, my colleague, my friend!"

"That's never stopped you before, why should it get in the way now?" Rosalie challenged, flicking her hair back into place angrily.

"Because you're my daughter!"

"And you think I want to be?!"

"Just what do you mean by that, young lady?" Before the argument could go any further, Alan stepped into the fore, with a large glass of whiskey in his hand.

"Please, can we do this some other time? The guests will wonder who released the pit bulls."

"Yeah Dad," Rosalie said, suddenly looking slightly hurt. "We wouldn't want to get in the way of your precious party would we now? The one you made me promise not to ruin? The one you told me to just sit in the corner and watch quietly? The one that could 'make or break your social standing', as I recall you saying?" Denny put his arm on his daughter's arm, and went to say something, but she shrugged it off. "I'm leaving, Dad. I wouldn't want to ruin your evening any further." With that, she went and got her wrap, before leaving the hotel. Denny turned angrily on his heel and muttered something unintelligible under his breath before returning to the large hall. Alan was left alone in the lobby.

"How the hell do you hail a taxi in this goddamn place?" Rosalie impatiently tucked a curl behind her ear, sticking her arm out into the dark night air.

"Allow me," said a voice from behind her, and he pulled a cell phone from his inside pocket. "It's hard to find cabs that go past here at this time of night."

"You should go back inside. I think Dad was expecting you to follow him in you know; make a grand entrance like he usually does." She shivered delicately in the night air, and Alan gallantly took his suit jacket off.

"I think I can deal with your father. Here, put this on, you're turning blue." Draping it over her shoulders, he tried to ring the cab company.

"Thanks for your concern," she said with a small smile. "It's good to know you're the kind of man who randomly kisses a girl, then has the decency to cover her up."

"There are a lot of things about me that surprise people. Like the fact that even though I'm a lawyer, I'm not completely cold. I'm not as greedy as some, and I certainly don't intend to suck people dry of their money." He took the phone away from his ear and frowned at it. "Damn, no reception."

"It's okay, I'll stand here a while longer. You go back to the party."

"You really aren't a local, are you? There's no way you'll get a cab at this hour… where are you staying? I'll take you home."

"Yeah, that's the thing. I'm not staying anywhere right now; I only just got here. I was going to sort out accommodation later."

"In that case, you can come and stay at mine for the night. I'm not leaving a vulnerable young lady like you in a strange city all by herself."

"You don't need to do that, Alan. I'll be fine. Honestly, I'll just… I don't know, but I'll do something."

"Just get in my car and stop procrastinating."

Driving home, Alan fleetingly thought about ringing Denny and telling him where he was. But knowing Denny, he was telling people about his great adventures in the world, and he wouldn't be sorely missed. Glancing at Rosalie, he realised how striking she really was. The street lights brought out the shape of her face far better, and picked out small details he hadn't noticed before, like the small stud in the top of her left ear. She began to doze off as they turned the corner into his block, and by the time they had parked she was fast asleep. Alan wondered whether or not to wake her, and decided that it would be far easier just to carry her indoors. And that's exactly what he proceeded to do.

Once in his apartment, he laid Rosalie down on the couch and made himself a whiskey soda. He was just about to walk out onto his balcony, when something made him stop and look back at her sleeping form. A curl fell over her eye, and Alan moved closer to watch her sleep. Bending down slowly, so that he was next to her, he gently moved her hair and listened to her regular breathing. It soothed him somehow to hear the sound, and he gently stroked her cheek. She started and awoke, looking at him sleepily.

"Hey, you. When did we get here?"

"Hello to you too. Only about five minutes or so ago; you fell asleep in my car."

"Oh jeez, I'm sorry! I'm such bad company you know," she said with an embarrassed laugh, pushing more hair out of her face.

"Don't be sorry, it's my pleasure to have you here. Now, what's your poison?"


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4.

After about four bottles of wine, both were too inebriated to say no when the idea of playing tequila truths arose.

"Okay, okay, my turn first," Rosalie slurred, pouring two shots from the bottle of tequila. "Have you ever… bungee jumped?" Alan shook his head and looked at his shot, before turning to Rosalie. She smiled at him, and took her fingers off the top of the glass. "Your turn."

"Have you ever slept with someone you worked with?" She knocked the shot back ruefully, and bit into a lime they'd found. "Really? Who was it? Is he famous?"

"Yeah, kinda. I don't want to go into too much detail though; he turned out to be a bit of a jackass in the end. Anyway, are you gonna down that?" Alan nodded, and threw his head back, letting the sharp liquid run down his throat.

"Your turn. And if you're interested, I slept with my secretary. Although that doesn't really count, because she was helping me with my night terrors."

"Night terrors? Aww, you poor baby!" Rosalie stroked his cheek gently, letting her fingertips linger upon his skin. Alan smiled, and said quietly,

"Aren't you going to ask me that question?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah!" She shook her head, snapping herself out of the trance she'd been in, and racked her brains for a question. "This is a good one, okay?"

"Okay."

"Are you ready for this one?"

"Yep, bring it on."

"Have you ever…" She slipped the wrap from her shoulders, and slowly slid one of the straps of her dress off her shoulder. Her voice became a husky whisper as she murmured, "Have you ever had an erotic fantasy about someone you barely know?" Alan knocked back his shot without hesitation, equalling her speed.

"Most definitely," he said, with his eyes fixed on the strap of her dress. "In fact, I think I'm having one right now." Rosalie laughed softly, and tilted her head to the right slightly.

"In that case, I think we're playing the wrong game. Sounds to me like it calls for strip poker."

Alan wasted no time finding a pack of cards, and Rosalie busied herself in getting more drinks from the cabinet. From her purse, she produced a packet of cigarettes and a lighter.

"Do you mind if I…?"

"No, not at all. In fact I think I'll join you." Alan went and found a cigar, lighting it and sitting down at the dining room table. "Shall we play?"

"Certainly," Rosalie said as she joined him. "But no cheating!" She lit her cigarette and blew a cloud of billowing blue smoke into the air.

"Shall I deal?"

"I don't know; have you ever worked in a casino?"

"I don't think so."

"Then I'll deal." Grabbing the pack, she split it professionally and did a few little card tricks.

"Impressive – where'd you learn to do that?"

"Dad paid for me to go to Vegas one vacation – he was supposed to come with, but he was working." Alan said nothing, but even in his drunken state he could pick up on the sadness in her voice. She dealt the cards swiftly and looked at her hand. "You know, I may as well just get naked now looking at these."

"I'm not complaining," grinned Alan, looking at his cards.

"Can't we play strip go fish or strip blackjack instead?"

"We could just skip the middle man and get straight down to it," he suggested, putting his cards down on the table, face down.

"We could indeed…" Rosalie stood up slowly, stubbing out her cigarette and walking over to the balcony. "It's a beautiful view you have from up here, you know."

"It's perfect," Alan said as he stared at her. She was toying with him, he knew, and yet he didn't really care. He just wanted to be with her for as long as he could. As she stared through the glass and down into the city lights below, he stood up and came over to stand behind her. "It's absolutely beautiful, isn't it?" He touched her curls gently, and she turned to face him, her brown eyes deep as the ocean. He ran the back of his hand across her cheek, and her eyes searched his, looking for an ulterior motive. Why was he doing this? What did he want, other than sex? It was written all over her face. As he let his hand drift down from her cheek, along her arm and onto her waist, he murmured, "I don't want anything. I just want you."

"Then in that case," she said as she slipped her arms around his neck, "you have me, Mr Shore."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5.

Rosalie found that perhaps letting herself go like this was not such a bad thing. She needed to relax more, and with Alan kissing her neck like that she was finding it very hard not to. But she needed to remain in control – if she didn't, who knew what could happen in the throes of passion? She reached up to the back of her head and pulled the clip out of its place, letting a torrent of blonde fall down her back.

Alan knew she was holding herself back. He wondered why as he gently kissed her lips, his hands gliding up her back to find the fastening of her dress. But suddenly, it was like a switch had clicked on in her mind, as she began to gently caress the back of his neck with her fingers – a weak spot of his. On finding the zip, he gently pulled it, easing it slowly down. He had found that if you rushed in situations like this, the mood would instantly be killed. He didn't want to kill the mood at this moment in time.

Silk had to be her shirt material of choice, if offered, Rosalie thought as she started to undo the buttons on his shirt. Sliding it gently off his shoulders, she was surprised to find how toned he was underneath, and slowly ran her hands down his chest. He was slowly sliding the straps of her dress off her shoulders, and with the slightest bit of coaxing, it slid clean off her willowy frame. She stepped out of it, revealing a pair of silver high heels and one of the most beautiful pairs of legs Alan had been lucky enough to see. Another thing that he found pleasing was the presence of stockings – one of the most underrated pieces of lingerie. Why didn't woman understand how sexy a pair of stockings were, and how much fun could be had by rolling them down?

"Would you be more comfortable here, or in the bedroom?" Alan enquired politely.

"Bedroom, by matter of preference, but I'm easy either way." Technically not true, she thought; generally she would have insisted on the bedroom, but with Alan it was different – she was so turned on right now, she couldn't have cared less if they'd been on a subway train.

"As you please, Mademoiselle," he said, picking her up, and started off for the bedroom. Rosalie gently kissed his neck as he said, "I apologise for the mess. I'm a bachelor, I'm not entirely used to company of the feminine kind… or of any kind, really."

"I don't really care," she said as he laid her down on the unmade bed, and she began to fumble for the zipper on his trousers. The belt was somewhere in the other room, and shortly the trousers were off and the two were lying in the bed, kissing passionately and secretly enjoying the closeness. Just as Rosalie began to undo her bra, Alan turned off the light and plunged the room into darkness. That night was the first night in three months that he did not have a night terror of any kind.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6.

Morning dawned in Boston, and as Rosalie went to sit up, she found herself instantly lying back down again, incapacitated by the pain in her head.

"Mary, Mother of God!" She gasped, bringing a hand to her throbbing head. She looked at Alan, who lay sleeping peacefully next to her. She stroked his cheek gently, and pulled the top sheet of the bedding around herself. Staying as low as possible, she crept into the kitchen in search of water; cool, clear water that would rush through her head and refresh her. On reaching the kitchen, however, she found the headache had dissipated somewhat, and chose instead to see if she could create some form of breakfast. Finding little which gave her much hope, she found a frying pan and some eggs, and began making omelettes.

Awoken twenty minutes later by the incredibly inviting smell of cooking eggs and ham, Alan sat up straight and chose to ignore the pain in his head. Pulling a pair of pants on, made his way into the kitchen where he found a figure swathed in a blue sheet with a mop of tousled blonde curls doing exciting things with a frying pan.

"Smells good gorgeous," he said with a smile, wrapping an arm round her waist. "You didn't have to do this though; my housekeeper usually brings me breakfast."

"Well I like to cook my own thank you very much," she said with a smile as she reached up and kissed his cheek. "That is to say, I do when I can, which isn't often at home."

"I guess being an actress, you don't have much time for cooking and that kind of stuff huh?" He played with a strand of her hair, watching the way it curled around his finger and smiling softly.

"Not as much as I'd like, no. But one does what one can." There was a long pause, where neither of them could find the words to ask the question in both their heads. They ate their breakfast in silence until finally, Alan said,

"Am I ever going to see you again? I mean, you must be going back to New York soon, and I work here, and… last night was something special." Rosalie played with the remains of her breakfast a moment, and looked up at him.

"I don't know. I honestly don't know." Her free hand lay flat on the table and Alan took it in his own.

"Please. Stay the rest of the week with me. You can do that, can't you?"

"My next show doesn't start rehearsals for another month… but I couldn't intrude on your life like that."

"It's no intrusion; in fact, it's my pleasure. I want you here with me, in the apartment."

"What am I going to do all day? I hardly have any money, I don't know anybody in Boston… I'll be bored senseless!"

"I have a credit card don't I? Use it, I don't mind. And I'll come take you out for lunch every day, just to see you smile."

"Then there's only one problem."

"What's that?"

"My father."

"Ah, right."

"Dad won't be happy about you seeing me, even if he really doesn't care about me. He's said that a few times, let me tell you."

"Then we just won't tell him. It'll be our little secret, won't it?" Alan reached up and stroked the soft skin of her cheek. "Please. Stay with me." Rosalie looked at his hand for a long time, before gazing into his eyes with the same scared look she'd had before.

"Don't hurt me, Alan. Don't you dare hurt me."


End file.
